“Topless dances are only ten,” she said, as Paul slipped two twenties under. She didn’t seem surprised when Paul told her to keep the rest. She let the garter snap over the bills. As he put his wallet back in his pocket, Destiny spilled about his lap, again, falling into him. Paul didn’t hold her; he compliantly laid his arms flat on the cushions of the couch, just under her. “Who is your favorite entertainer, not counting me?” Destiny glanced around the club. Paul followed her gaze, but he focused on his mistress, relaxing in his lap, and the rest of the club appeared only visually, but vanished in his attention. “I know you don’t like Camille, even though you find her attractive.”
“I like Camille.”
“You do?”
“Sure. She might hate men, but I like her.”
“She likes you. She doesn’t like
